Chapter Text
“You’re pacing?”
Rumi hisses out a surprised breath, whirling around on her feet to face the voice echoing out from her doorway. It’s almost embarrassing how completely unabashed and fearless Jinu looks, though he slowly raises his hands up in a motion that’s clearly meant to be placating; it has the opposite effect on Rumi, though, who immediately thinks about covering the distance to go over there and break his nose.
As soon as that thought crosses her mind, Rumi winces. She doesn’t usually instantly jump to that, and he hasn’t even said anything that bad yet, though she’s pretty sure that’s about to change. She deflates, her shoulders sagging as she collapses on the edge of the coffee table, burying her face into her hands. She hears the door shut with a click, listening as his footsteps get closer and closer.
Eventually, there’s a weight next to her, his shoulder pressed up against her own. Normally, Rumi thinks she’d probably shove him away from her or start a fight with him, mostly because that’s just what they do. They’ve done that since they were young, though it was more or less genuine back when they first met, since Rumi did very seriously want to rip his throat out more often than not, and Jinu was just as easily irritated as she was. They’re a lot better at not acting like that these days, and it’s not like they’re being serious about it anymore.
Or, well. Mostly. Most of the time Rumi doesn’t actually want to kill him, but there are definitely days where she considers it, and she knows she could get away with it. She’s actually very certain she could, in fact, get away with it. She thinks Jinu has to know that, too, because he’s only gotten more and more prone to fleeing at the slightest hint of her actually being frustrated with him only to reappear at a safer distance an hour or two later.
She’s torn between wanting to pick a fight with him and crying into his shoulder. Rumi sighs, giving up as she lets herself lean against him. Jinu—for once in his life—doesn’t make any kind of snarky comments, and instead nudges her gently, humming quietly for a second.
“You still in there?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically soft. “I mean, I guess you are. What was that, your fiftieth lap around the table?"
“You’re a dick,” Rumi mutters, opening her eyes just so she can scowl at her living room floor. She crosses her arms against her chest, making sure to purposefully elbow him the best she can manage when she adjusts. “Is that, like...all you’re here to do? You could’ve just texted.”
Jinu snorts, bumping his shoulder into hers again. “Uh, no, actually, I couldn’t. You blocked me. Remember?” he helpfully presses. “I figured you’d finally just...you know.” Jinu pops his lips, making a strangled, pained noise after. “Went and done it.”
Rumi laughs, unable to help herself. She groans half a second later, burying her face further into her hands, shaking her head. “You can’t just say that.”
“Well,” Jinu starts, sounding stupidly pleased, “It’s not an unfounded concern. And I was very concerned. Unblock me.”
“I’m not doing that,” Rumi says, leaning back to look at him. “Are you happy now? I’m alive. Not dead. Totally fine.”
Jinu stares at her. “Totally fine.”
“Totally fine,” Rumi agrees, saying it a little slower this time.
“Totally fine,” Jinu repeats.
Rumi scowls at him, reaching out to plant her hand on his chest, shoving him back as hard as she can. Unfortunately for Jinu—and fortunately for her—she’s always been the stronger one between the two of them, and so he goes flying off the coffee table. Jinu yelps, staring up at her with a bewildered sort of disbelief that Rumi really doesn’t think he has any right to have, given how he’s known her for years by this point; it’s not in her nature, when it comes to him, to not take every opportunity to act like this.
For a second, Rumi stares at him without saying anything. Jinu stares back just as hard, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. Rumi holds eye contact when she reaffirms, “Totally fine.”
“Sure,” Jinu mutters, pushing himself off the floor, trudging back over to sit directly beside her again. “I can tell you’re spiraling.”
Rumi scuffs her foot against the ground, staring at the floor so hard she’s surprised she doesn’t burn a hole through the rug. She kind of wishes that she would; if the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, she wouldn’t have to deal with talking to Jinu, or talking about this, or thinking about how the only long-term relationship she’s ever had ended yesterday and how she’s going to have to go up to her parents’ place and tell them all about it after specifically talking about finally bringing her girlfriend up for them to meet because she thought it was probably time and—
“You’re getting worse,” Jinu says, not unkindly, but the words still grate on Rumi’s ears. “Ru, I literally can hear you doing it. Ignoring me isn’t an option. I know you can hear me. Rumi. Rumi. Rumi. Rumi. Ryu Rumi. Ryu Rumi. Look at me.”
“Shut up, Jinu,” Rumi hisses under her breath, jabbing her elbow into his ribs. Jinu makes a pained noise, but he doesn’t move away. “I just—what do you want from me? What do you want me to say? ‘Oh, it’s totally fine that I got dumped and broken up with and everyone hates me’? I know that! You don’t have to remind me.”
Jinu scoffs, knocking his shoulder into hers again. “I wasn’t going to say any of that, actually.”
Rumi snaps her head to the side, leveling him with the most disbelieving and unimpressed look she can possibly muster. “You texted me—you...you literally said...” Rumi spins a little to the right, snatching her phone off of the coffee table, unlocking it and pulling up Jinu’s contact.
She scrolls for all of two seconds before she finds the message that says: sorry u got dumped lol do you want me to like call someone 4 you. like a rebound. would that fix you? i can bring SO much alcohol if you want to spend the night miserable in a different way just lmk lol ( :} ← smiley )
Rumi jams the phone in his face. Jinu squints for a few seconds before he clearly rereads what he sent, a wide, totally unashamed grin stretching out across his face, which only makes Rumi want to hit him even harder.
“Well,” Jinu starts, slowly. “Would it have?”
“Oh my god!” Rumi hisses, throwing her phone off toward the couch so she can hit him as hard as possible. Jinu yelps before her fist even connects with his shoulder, and then he’s dancing back off the coffee table, leaping up to his feet as he darts out of punching range. “You’re—I hate you.”
Jinu laughs, which only makes Rumi angrier. “Okay! I’m sorry! Okay?” he presses. “But you’re driving yourself insane being in here, you know that. You’re actually on step one of completely losing your mind,” Jinu helpfully chirps. “It usually starts with you blocking me, and then you disappear for five months. Which—super not cool, just by the way.”
Rumi stares blankly up at him. “That’s what you do. I have never once done that.”
It’s true; Jinu is the one between the two of them who is the most prone to fleeing and completely abandoning everyone and everything for varying lengths of time, depending on what happened. Rumi tends to be—unfortunately—the only person he remains in contact with during his...excursions. Rumi, on the other hand, has never once dropped off the face of the earth, unlike Jinu. Maybe she’ll block him a few times, mostly out of frustration, but it’s hardly as if it matters. He has a key to her apartment, and clearly he’s fine with using it.
Not like Rumi really minds. Despite everything about him, Jinu is her best friend—he gets her better than anyone else ever has, and it’s difficult for her to stay irritated or angry at him because of that. As awful as he is to deal with, he’s just...easy. He makes things easier. Makes her feel like she’s less insane, and it’s nice to have someone who just gets her.
Even if it’s Jinu. Unfortunately, Rumi thinks she's sort of stuck with him, given how it's been nearly eight years since they met, and she hasn't managed to get rid of him. Not for lack of trying on her part. Or his, really. Actually, maybe both of them have tried too many times. Whatever.
Jinu shrugs, holding his hands up in mock-defeat. “Okay, maybe you don’t disappear for five months, but you spend those five months pacing. How’s that going for you, by the way?”
Rumi scoffs. “What do you want from me?” she demands. “I got broken up with, Jinu. I think I can pace if I want to pace. And I do. Can you get out of my apartment? Actually—” Rumi pushes herself to her feet, resting her hands on her hips as she scowls at him. “Give me your key.”
“Absolutely not,” Jinu says with a wide grin, tilting his chin up as he speaks. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t, you know.” He waves a hand, making that same ‘pop’ sound with his mouth. This time, though, Jinu raises his hand up to his head, miming a gun as he quietly hisses out a ‘pow!’ that has far too much emphasis.
Rumi really does think that he’s done, and then she watches Jinu mime tossing a rope up to the rafter above him, and then he mimics himself tying an oddly impressive, oddly realistic noose. And, of course, it ends up around his throat.
“You know,” Jinu says again after a second, waving a hand as he drops his head and pretends to go limp. “Y’know.”
“You’re tempting me,” Rumi deadpans. “You’re terrible at this.”
Jinu shoots his head back up and grins, eyes practically sparkling as he says, “I think that was a really good recreation, actually.”
“Maybe you should go through with it,” Rumi helpfully suggests. “I think that’d fix me.”
Jinu’s grin drops. “I’m not going for round five, Rumi,” he helpfully tells her back. “And neither are you! Do you want me to—” he cuts himself off, waving a hand absentmindedly. “I can call a few of my friends. So you’re not alone up there?” Jinu offers. “Not ideal, but—”
“No,” Rumi rushes out, screwing up her face. “Are you fucking serious? No, Jinu. I don’t want that.”
“I could go up with you,” he suggests.
Rumi gags, nearly throwing up in her mouth. “Ew.”
“Okay,” Jinu scoffs, glaring at her. “Fine. Be sad and alone and brokenhearted for the holidays. Have you even told your parents?” he asks, arching an eyebrow, giving her a look that has Rumi scowling even harder. “Or are you just going to show up alone?”
“You’re a dick, you know that, right?” Rumi mutters, crinkling her nose. It’s what she needs to hear, she knows that; it just doesn’t make it any easier to have to listen to. “No, I haven’t said anything. They were—they were excited, Jinu,” Rumi murmurs, pressing her cheek into her hand. “They were really excited.”
Jinu takes a step closer, dropping back down to the coffee table. He bumps into her, knocking their heads together. “You know they’re not going to be mad at you, right? I mean, she didn’t even give a reason, did she?” he asks. “Which is unbelievable. I can’t believe you even—” he cuts himself off, seeming to realise that Rumi is dead staring at him. “Is it too soon to say I didn’t like her?”
Rumi snorts, dragging her hands down her face. “I just wasn’t...right for her, or whatever. And I guess I’m a chronic workaholic. I haven’t even been working!” Rumi huffs, directing her gaze back to the floor. “I’ve been—I’ve been doing the opposite of working!”
On Celine’s orders, really. Rumi didn’t want to back out of helping with her parents’ company, but Celine wouldn’t let up, citing something about her ‘driving herself insane’, or whatever. So Rumi has more or less been put in timeout, and...
She breathes out, turning her head to the side, tapping her foot against the ground. “Um, actually, I didn’t...” she trails off, drawing in a deep breath. She hadn’t brought it up to Jinu for a reason, but now he’s in her apartment, and it sort of feels wrong to keep it from him for any longer. “You have to be normal about this.”
Jinu makes a displeased noise. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Rumi weakly protests, still decidedly not looking at him.
“You’re starting it off like that,” Jinu points out. “It’s going to be something awful.”
Rumi winces. “She cheated. On me. Um, like, apparently—you know, more than you’d expect. It was kind of a surprising amount of times, actually. But it’s fine!” she rushes out. “It’s fine, I—”
Jinu grabs both of her shoulders. Rumi lets out a miserable noise when he spins her around to face him, leaning in far closer than necessary before he says, “Rumi, I’m going to kill her.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” Rumi mutters. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want to think about it. Can we not think about it?”
“One week.”
“Can you make it, like...more than that?” Rumi asks, screwing up her face. “I’m going up to my parents’ until the new year. After that,” she says, heaving a sigh. “After that you can do whatever. Not whatever,” Rumi quickly corrects. “Not whatever. I want you to drop it, Jinu.”
Jinu scoffs, narrowing his eyes, but he eventually ducks his head. “Fine. Okay.” Then he pauses, screwing up his own face before he says, “Sorry for the whole...you know,” he offers, weakly raising a hand to point two fingers at his head again, softly whispering, “Pow.”
“You really are not making it better,” Rumi says, but she ends up laughing at the way he looks nearly bashful. His expression very much so does not match the action he’s acting out, which unfortunately makes it funnier. “It’s fine. It’s making me feel normal about the whole...” she waves a hand. “Everything, I guess.”
They sit there in silence for a few minutes longer, mostly with Rumi leaning against his shoulder while Jinu mercifully stays quiet. It’s the most peace Rumi has gotten in hours, and it’s almost enough for her to forget why he’s even here in the first place.
That lasts until Jinu adjusts, jostling her just enough for Rumi to be brought back to her current problem: how does she tell her parents without them freaking out so badly it stresses her out worse than the actual breakup itself?
“Jinu,” Rumi says, shifting off of the coffee table to pad to the couch across from it. She hoists herself up onto the arm of it, promptly flinging herself back so her head is against the cushions, legs hanging up in the air. “My parents are going to freak out.”
He makes an affirmative noise that really does nothing to alleviate the stress she feels. “Totally. I’m texting Celine her address.”
“Don’t!” Rumi hisses out, snapping her head to the side to glare at him. “Not—not until I’m back down from their place! Or ever, actually! Don’t do that! Ever!”
“Do you really just—what, expect me to sit here and pretend like it didn’t happen?” Jinu demands, sputtering for a second before he presses on, “Rumi, if it was me, you’d be gone. Out of the house. In jail, actually.”
“Well,” Rumi mutters, “That’s not even true. I wouldn’t get caught.”
Jinu scoffs again. “I wouldn’t get caught, either.”
Rumi cracks an eye open to give him the most unimpressed look she can manage. “Okay, Jinu.”
“Do you know how insufferable you are? Are you doing that on purpose, or is it a—” Jinu quickly cuts himself off. “No. You’re fantastic, Rumi. Truly a...visionary. In our time. Sorry.”
“You literally can’t save that,” Rumi mumbles, but she finds herself smiling at him anyway. “I’m just...not going to text them. At all. Um, probably ever again? I think I’m going to skip out on Christmas this year.”
Jinu rolls his eyes, giving her an entirely undeserved look. “They’d hunt you down, you know that, right? Have you been responding to their texts?”
“Yes,” Rumi begrudgingly says.
“Probably why they’re not down here,” Jinu mutters, pushing himself off of the coffee table. He disappears from her line of sight, and Rumi props herself up, watching as he saunters into the kitchen with his hands on his hips, head swiveling back and forth. “Are you stocked up?”
“I can feed myself just fine, Jinu,” Rumi helpfully tells him, narrowing her eyes sharply when Jinu doesn’t even bother to turn around, just waving his hand in response. “No, no, it’s fine,” Rumi calls out, tilting her head to the side. “It’s totally fine. Go for it. Dig around in my kitchen. Totally fine. You’re already ruining my morning, you might as well fuck it up even more.”
Jinu hums approvingly. “I was going to do that anyway,” he chirps. Rumi huffs, glaring even harder as she watches Jinu instantly cover the remaining space between him and her cupboards, opening them up with a dramatic flair that has her wincing—the hinges need to be replaced on some of them, and if they open too hard, they will fall apart. It’s nothing short of a miracle, really, that they don’t do that, given how he pretty much throws them open.
Rumi watches him for a few seconds longer, rolling her eyes at the way he bounces from cupboard to cupboard, then to the fridge, then to her lower cabinets, even peering into the sink as if there’s something there. It’s ridiculous, a little sweet to see that he cares, but it mostly just makes her want to strangle him and maybe shove him in the sink. She’s not—she got broken up with. She’s still able to take care of herself just fine. And Rumi has always prided herself on being really, really adaptable and good at handling situations and more or less just pushing things off to the side to deal with in vague increments, so she’s not...worried about how she’ll deal with all of this.
Really, she’s just kind of ashamed at going up to her parents’ place after finally caving to introduce them to her girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Her ex-girlfriend who cheated on her a lot, apparently. Rumi sort of wonders how she managed to miss that, but...something something workaholic, she guesses.
Eventually, Jinu makes a somewhat pleased noise, turning back to face her. “Okay, you’re not at risk of imminently starving.”
“I literally said that,” Rumi scoffs, narrowing her eyes all over again now that he’s looking at her. “Did you just...choose to not, like, process that? Did you not hear me literally say that?”
“I didn’t believe you,” Jinu helpfully says with a tight smile that’s more of a weird grimace than anything, though Rumi supposes she could say that for all of his smiles. “I’ll come over for a week once you’re back down.”
Rumi grimaces this time. “I really don’t want you to do that.”
“Yeah, but it’s what you need,” Jinu says with a wave of his hand, shrugging casually. “So...I’ll be here! Do the little guys need watering?” he asks, inclining his head toward the wall of houseplants Rumi still has to organise. She only just recently brought them in from her terrace for the winter, and half of them are still housed in the living room and kitchen and also the hallway, and they’re kind of spreading more and more, and she’s honestly half-convinced they’re duplicating, actually.
It’s admittedly sweeter than it should be for Jinu to ask. Rumi sighs, hoisting herself up the rest of the way onto the arm of her couch, propping her chin on her knuckles. “Some of them, yeah. I can leave you instructions.”
Jinu shoots her the biggest, stupidest grin; he looks so genuinely thrilled that it catches Rumi off guard for a second. “A list? Will you make me a list? I’d love a list.”
Rumi immediately scowls, losing all sense of appreciation for him. “You can go to hell, actually.”
“I’m serious!” Jinu laughs, his grin somehow managing to get bigger. “You—you love lists, don’t you? That’ll make you feel better! Right?”
“I can’t believe you,” Rumi says, opening and closing her mouth for a few seconds. “I actually can’t believe you. Get out of my apartment."
“Nope!” Jinu beams, batting his eyelashes at her. “Make me a list, it’ll help you be less...” he waves a hand, sauntering back into the living room, resting his other hand on his hip as he tilts his head to the side, like he’s considering. “Like that.”
Rumi stares at him. “Less...like that?”
Jinu nods. A bold move for someone who has suddenly placed himself back in punching range. “Yup. Gonna need you to get over this one pretty quick for me, Ru. That way you’re not all that broken up about it when I text Celine to accompany me when I—”
“Oh my god!” Rumi groans, throwing her head back. “You know what? This is worse. This is worse than getting broken up with. Actually, you really know what? This is worse than finding out about the cheating! All twenty times! Probably more than that!”
“Well, I know that’s not true,” Jinu says, rolling his eyes. “Are you packed? Ready to go? Do you want me to drive you?”
Rumi glowers at him, largely because Jinu is trying to be sweet and genuine again, even if both of those words don’t really ring true for who he is as a person. Still, it’s nice of him to make the attempt, and it makes Rumi feel a little worse, just because he’s not usually so...upfront about stuff like this. They’ve never really been all that good at being friends in the normal way, but it works well enough for them; they don’t typically ask each other to help out. They usually just show up and do whatever needs to be done, like the time Rumi spent a whole month in his apartment making sure he was eating and moving off the couch at least once or twice a day. Or like the time Jinu showed up in her apartment and forced her to get in his car so they could drive around for a few hours for a change of scenery.
It sort of just serves as another reminder that her relationship has completely dissolved, and it probably wasn’t even very good in the first place, but it was...it had been good for a bit, Rumi thinks. It had to have been good for at least a bit.
And now Jinu is in her apartment, staring at her all expectantly, already inching closer and closer to the door.
“No,” Rumi eventually manages to get out, shaking her head as she stands up, hands brushing down her shirt. “No, it’s fine. I think it’ll help to not really, um, have to think about it,” she offers, glancing toward the front door. “You have to watch my plants, anyway.”
Jinu hums, pursing his lips as he nods along to the words. “Because they’re known to move around and flee the vicinity.”
Rumi stares at him, letting out a soft bark of laughter before she strides up and punches his shoulder as hard as she can. Jinu yelps and scrambles back, darting around to the back of the couch, as if that would be enough distance to keep him safe. Rumi rolls her eyes, shaking out her hand before jamming it in her pockets, letting out a slow breath.
After another second of Jinu staring warily at her, Rumi smiles a little and says, “I hope I come back and find you smothered. I’m praying for it, actually. On my hands and knees begging for it to happen. I would kill to come back and never have to deal with you again.”
It’s a little funny watching a dozen emotions flicker across Jinu’s face. Rumi is more than surprised when his face softens and he covers the distance between them again, feeling kind of like a dick when he wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into a hug. Rumi presses her face to the side of his neck, heaving a sigh as she drapes her own arms around him, breathing out slowly.
“Feel better?” Jinu asks, sounding far too smug. “You sound like you’re feeling better.”
Rumi snorts, shaking her head the best she’s able to. “I think you just, like, make me too angry to focus on literally anything else.”
“That was the goal,” Jinu chirps, pulling back to give her another stupid grin, eyes sparkling. “You’re packed?”
“I packed two days ago,” Rumi mutters, rolling her eyes. “I should really—I need to go, Jinu. I want to stop at the diner on the way, and that’ll be another, like, twenty minutes, and if I leave now, I’ll be able to make it in—”
“You do know that your parents wouldn’t be upset by you running late?” Jinu asks, giving her a look. “You’re already going to be three hours early. You don’t need another twenty minutes.”
Rumi scoffs. “No, you’re right. I just want to get away from you.”
Jinu nods, pushing her back with far too much force. Rumi considers punching him again, but then he’s prancing off upstairs, and all she can do is roll her eyes and watch as he skips out of sight. Rumi stands there in her living room for another minute or so, tapping her foot against the ground, counting back from two hundred before Jinu reappears about halfway through. Her black duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, and he winces down every single stair, eventually dropping the bag at her feet.
Jinu wheezes as soon as the bag is out of his hands, doubling over, planting his palms on his knees. “What are you taking with you? Bowling balls?”
Rumi blinks. She crouches down, easily hoisting her duffle bag up into the air with one hand, purposefully holding it up above her head as she gives him a look. “Clothes, actually. And presents.”
“Which I can only assume are the aforementioned bowling balls,” Jinu mutters. “Do they even—do your parents even go bowling?”
“Why would I know that?” Rumi asks, screwing up at her face as she stares at him in disbelief. “Okay, you’re—you’re distracting me. I’m going to go now, Jinu,” she says, walking toward the front door to slip on her shoes and grab her keys. “Most of my plants just need misting, you know how to take care of them, I know you do.”
She twists to the side, grabbing her phone off the couch, shoving it in her pockets. Rumi takes a second to quickly look around her living room, making sure she hasn’t accidentally forgotten anything. Her keys are on the keyring, duffle bag is in her hand, phone is in her pocket.
“Leg and Legs2 are in fantastic care,” Jinu promises. “Did Stork finally...you know. You know.”
Rumi immediately rushes out, “Don’t start with your awful charades,” before Jinu can mimic killing himself again for the fifth time within the hour. “And no, he’s fine. He was just being dramatic and wilting for no reason, but he’s, like, fine now. I don’t know what was wrong with him.”
Jinu gives an approving hum. “I was worried about him. How’s Pink?”
Rumi smiles, casting a glance over to the Philodendron Pink Princess that occupies a space by her window. “Thriving. More gangly than usual. I think she’s still growing?”
“She needs to stop,” Jinu mutters. “She’s too tall. She’s going to take over your apartment, Rumi.”
“I can’t help that,” Rumi laughs, shrugging one shoulder as she turns back to look at him, spinning her keys around her index finger. “She’s pretty.”
Jinu makes a noise that clearly borders on disagreeing, but Rumi is nice enough to not hit him for it. “Two pink leaves and all.”
“I don’t even know why she doesn’t have more,” Rumi groans, crouching down to put on her shoes. “She’s always in the light! And she’s—her soil is fine! I’ve checked! Just...text me if you don’t know which ones need to be watered. If you kill my plants, I’ll kill you.”
“I’ve been taking care of them for years now,” Jinu says with a nearly-affronted scoff, waving his hand dismissively. “They’re pretty much my plants too. They’re all children of—”
Rumi gags so hard and so violently that she thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that she doesn’t actually throw up. “Do not say that. I would literally rather kill myself than date you.”
Jinu stares at her. “I was joking, but it’s nice to know that’s what you think.”
“You feel the same!” Rumi laughs, narrowing her eyes almost playfully at him. “Think about dating me. Think about what that would be like. Are you picturing it?”
She feels nothing but pure vindication at the way Jinu’s face immediately screws up, how severely uncomfortable he looks. Rumi snickers when he actually lurches forward a little, hand flying up to cup over his mouth as he twists his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut.
Rumi beams, opening the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, it’s not good, huh?”
Jinu makes a pained noise, rapidly shaking his head for a second. “I think I kind of have to go for round five after that.”
“You always say that, and then you just never do,” Rumi hums, smiling at him. “But same. I need to go. I’ll—I’ll make a list, but there’s still instructions on the fridge, remember? I mean, I have more plants, but honestly, they’re not that difficult. Do not touch the cacti. They’ll be okay until I get back. And also keep the window open for all of them, but—”
“Rumi,” Jinu laughs, giving her a look. “I’ve got it. Can you, like...stop spiraling for one second? You haven’t even left your apartment and you’re already micromanaging.”
“They’re my plants,” Rumi bites back, but she deflates a little, dragging her hands down through her hair. “Fine. Whatever. Just...don’t fuck anything up, please. I can’t handle that right now.”
Jinu waves her off, hopping up onto her kitchen island. “Me? I’d never.”
Rumi scowls at him. “Sure, Jinu. Um, and...thank you,” she mutters, a little begrudgingly. “You could come up, if you wanted. Not as—not like that. Just, you know. In general.”
Jinu shoots her a wide, pleased grin. “Maybe. Probably not. Your apartment is nice! I feel like I’m living luxury up here. And also your parents terrify me,” he quickly adds. “And I don’t think they like me. I know Celine does not like me. I don’t think I want to spend my week being put to work like a dog.”
“Offer’s still there,” Rumi says with a shrug. “And it’d be Mama putting you to work, you know that.”
“Not any better,” Jinu mutters. “Drive safe, don’t crash intentionally or otherwise. Text me when you get to the diner. Or to your house. Do both.”
Rumi waves her hand, rolling her eyes as she turns to walk out the door. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”
“Rumi, I’m being—”
She shuts the door before he can finish. It takes a grand amount of effort for Rumi to not burst out laughing when she hears the pause of silence, quickly followed by Jinu half-yelling; no words, not even speaking, just pure noise. She giggles on the way outside, pulling her phone out for half a second, fully expecting a text.
Rumi snorts when she remembers that she still has him blocked. There’s a part of her that realistically knows she should unblock him, she probably should do it now, but...
She shoves her phone back in her pocket, covering the rest of the distance from the door to her car. Rumi tosses her duffle bag into the back, slipping around to the driver’s seat. For a second, she sits there with her chin settled on the wheel, squinting at the skyline and dozens of buildings around her.
She should have brought a coat, probably. Or gloves. Or anything, since it’s freezing cold and there’s an unbelievable amount of snow on the ground, but it’s far too late for that. Rumi crinkles her nose as soon as the thought enters her mind—it’s really not too late; she could go back inside and grab a coat, she’d be back out here in less than three minutes, give or take.
Rumi just knows that if she leaves her car, she’s not going to come back out. There’s a good chance she’ll make Jinu leave so she can go back to pacing around her apartment—though she knows the chances of her actually getting Jinu to leave are low, especially given, well...everything—and it’ll drive her insane. She just needs to...forget about everything. Clear her mind. Pretend like the last eight months never happened, forget the call, forget the dozens of texts before she silenced her phone. Forget that she’s going back home alone, forget that her parents are going to look at her like that, forget—
Rumi groans, pushing herself back into her seat. She starts her car immediately after that, shaking her head in an attempt to focus.
It’s fine. Everything is totally fine.
She can handle this.
The drive to the diner is uneventful and short; Rumi has made the trip about a thousand times, mostly just because it’s on the way to her parents’ place. It’s a nice diner—kind of small, a little rustic, definitely outdated and more or less falling apart. It’s actually sort of a miracle that it hasn’t completely disintegrated given how Rumi can see a load-bearing wall that’s very nearly caving in, but it adds to the charm.
Rumi parks, turning off her car. She hisses out a miserable sigh when she instantly drops her keys once she gets out, huffing before pocketing them. She jogs toward the diner itself, pressing through the door, brushing her hands through her hair.
“Rumi!”
Rumi winces. She steels herself, putting on her best attempt at a smile as she meets Abby’s eyes, waving a little as she steps up toward the counter. “Hi, Abs.”
Abby returns her smile with a brilliant, stupid looking grin that quickly falters after half a second. It’s replaced with a smile Rumi can really only describe as melancholy, which is kind of unnerving, because she really didn’t even know that Abby knew how to be melancholy. She’s actually pretty sure she’s only ever seen him being, like, weirdly upbeat and cheerful.
“I’m really sorry to hear about Hana,” Abby says, sounding so painfully sincere that it makes Rumi’s chest ache a little.
“You weren’t supposed to know about that, by the way,” Rumi mumbles, scuffing her boot against the ground, half-leaning on the counter. “How—how many people has Jinu told? I literally...”
Abby offers a sheepish grin, holding his hands up in defeat. “Sorry? I think just me, though. I mean, he texted me! Directly! No group chat! Just me!”
“That’s great, Abby,” Rumi mutters, tilting her head to the side as she stares at a wall so hard she’s surprised it doesn’t burst into flames. “Can I get a pity drink?”
“Is it really a pity drink if it’s made out of love?” Abby asks, and Rumi turns just in time to catch him wiggling his eyebrows. Individually. Left one up, left one down. Right one up, right one down. “And compassion? And—”
“I’m getting the idea,” Rumi assures him, drumming her fingers against the counter. “So, is that...a yes?”
Abby plants his heart over his chest, leaning forward to place his other hand over hers as he says, “Rumi, you could ask me for anything at all right now, and I’d get it done for you. Pinky promise!”
Rumi genuinely sort of wonders if this is worse than getting broken up with as she watches Abby raise up both pinkies, holding them up by his head. In a desperate effort to get out of this conversation, Rumi matches the gesture, figuring that was the right bet, since Abby instantly breaks out into a pleased grin.
“Jinu mentioned you needing a date,” Abby chirps, cocking his head to the side. “If you wanted, or whatever, a few of my coworkers would be totally cool with going up with you! I know it’s, like, a bad look for you, or whatever, going up alone.”
Rumi winces, clenching one of her hands into a fist as she steadily breathes in and out through her nose. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, Abby. My...my drink?”
“Right!” he agrees, spinning on his heels and pausing. He turns back around, pointing a finger at her as he breaks into another wide smile. “Same as always? Something more festive? We’ve got so much peppermint. Like, a lot. Like, dude, you wouldn’t even believe how much peppermint we’ve got. Peppermint hot chocolate sound good?”
Rumi blinks. “...Yeah, okay.”
Abby cheers, pumping his fist in the air as he whirls back around. “Got it! Ten minutes tops! I’ll get it done for you!”
“Thanks, Abby,” Rumi mutters, dragging her hands down her face as she stalks toward the corner of the diner, breathing out as slowly as she can manage. She’s pretty convinced she could stop breathing entirely and pass out here, which is a lot more appealing than having to talk to anyone ever again.
There’s a very large part of her that is near-desperate to unblock Jinu to tell him to just go for the fifth attempt, because what the fuck is his problem? Rumi—she specifically did not tell anyone else about the breakup because she just didn’t want to have to think about it. And now Abby knows? She’d almost be more understanding if Jinu texted Roman, just because he wouldn’t snitch. Abby, on the other hand, has never once been quiet a day in his life, and Rumi already knows that everything is going to spread, and they’re not even—they’re not even her friends! They’re literally Jinu’s!
Rumi groans, pressing her fist to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. Abby’s stupid words replay over and over again in her mind, and it’s...
It’s true, isn’t it? It doesn’t look good for her to go up alone. It’s just another nail in the coffin, another bit of proof that she’s so...fucked up that she can’t even hold down a relationship. Maybe this time it isn’t her fault, but how is she meant to believe that? Her longest relationship, and it wasn’t even for a full year, and she apparently screwed it up so badly that—
Rumi sighs, dropping her hand down to the side. It’s not fair. None of it is fair, and she just doesn’t...she doesn’t get it. What did she do wrong? She swears that she did everything right this time, that she spent so much time and effort on being the perfect girlfriend, and...
God, she’s totally going to cry in this stupid diner. Rumi sniffles, wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrist, shaking her head in an attempt to get herself to calm down. She lets out a choked sigh, shaking her head rapidly as she taps her foot against the ground, trying to keep herself from completely freaking out. It’s fine. It’s totally fine.
It doesn’t matter that she’s just always going to be alone and constantly screw everything up, it’s fine. That’s normal. Rumi is sure that there’s a dozen other people just like her who are seemingly incapable of ever getting into a normal, happy, healthy relationship without totally ruining it for themselves. She’s sure she’s not alone in that regard. Actually, she knows she’s not alone in that regard, because her best friend is Jinu.
Rumi winces. That really doesn’t make her feel better.
She looks back to the counter, shifting a little impatiently from foot to foot as she waits for Abby to get back with her drink. She knows ‘ten minutes tops’ is a lie, because Abby is incapable of not getting distracted and promptly doing something else. How he even still has a job here is beyond her, but it’s...fine, or whatever. Rumi pulls out her phone, crinkling her nose at how it’s already been five minutes since she ordered. She doesn’t want to have to sit here and wait and then be thirty minutes late on the way up to her parents’ place. That’s, like, the opposite of what she wants to do.
Rumi sighs, wondering if she should just take the loss. Her day really can’t get any worse, and it’s not like she paid, so...
Rumi goes to the door, though she’s immediately stopped in her tracks by, arguably, the prettiest woman she’s ever seen.
She’s tall. Tall, pretty eyes framed by round, golden glasses. She looks severely underdressed for the weather, but it’s hardly as if Rumi’s able to really judge, given how she’s just as bad, if not worse. Rumi takes another second to look at the woman, feeling oddly breathless—long, pink hair, sharp features, her expression looking almost bored; completely indifferent, at the very least.
Rumi is moving before she even really realises that she’s doing it. The woman is half-turned to the door, and Rumi beats her there, standing in front of her for a few seconds.
She doesn’t know what she means to say. Maybe something like, “I noticed you from across the room and you’re super pretty and I know this is a really weird request but could you maybe come with me and pretend to be my girlfriend for a few days? I can totally pay you!”, which would be a little much, but at least it would get the point across. Or maybe, “I saw you and thought you were really pretty so maybe I could get your number or something?”, which is also a little much, but not that bad.
What Rumi actually says is, “You’re coming with me.”
It surprises her just as much as the woman, who blinks at her. Rumi doesn’t make a move to correct herself, mostly too stunned by the fact that she said that in the first place. It only surprises her more when she takes a step closer, head inclining toward the door, effectively herding the woman out of the diner.
It only gets worse when the woman lets her do it.
Rumi feels like she’s going to pass out as soon as the woman backs out of the diner, stepping through the door, eyes intense and carefully trained directly onto Rumi.
Every single part of her is screaming to back out of this, to turn around, to apologise, to do something other than guide the woman to her car, but Rumi is—unfortunately—nothing if not stubborn. Too stubborn. Far, far too stubborn. None of this should have happened in the first place, but she’s just...it’s too late now. It’s too late now, just like how it was too late for her to go back inside and get her coat, and now it’s too late for her to do anything other than just go through with it, and—
Rumi keeps walking. The woman keeps following. That goes on until they get to Rumi’s car, and then she’s...opening the door, urging the woman to get in, and then she gets into the driver’s side, and starts the car.
Just like that.
It’s a little startling how loudly she’s screaming at herself in her head, mostly variations of this cannot be happening and you need to stop immediately, but Rumi chooses not to listen to the reasonable part of herself. She keeps actively making that choice even when she pulls out from the diner and merges back onto the road. She keeps making that choice as she continues to drive, hands white-knuckling the wheel, eyes set dead ahead, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she thinks it has to be nothing short of a miracle that it doesn’t beat right out of her.
She says nothing at all. The woman in her passenger’s seat—who she doesn’t even know!—says nothing at all.
In fact, it’s completely dead silent, barring the rumble of the car and faintest ringing in Rumi’s ears.
Up until it’s not.
Up until a voice, coming from the backseat, casually says, “Hey, um, not to, like...interrupt, or whatever, but I don’t really think I’m supposed to...” the voice—the other woman—pauses. “I think I might have gotten in the, uh, the wrong car?”